


doomed to repeat ourselves

by acetamide



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1742720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acetamide/pseuds/acetamide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik doesn't mean to tell them everything; he doesn't mean to save mutantkind. He's just tired of it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	doomed to repeat ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt at [X-Men Kink](http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/11912.html?thread=22903944#t22903944):
> 
>  
> 
> _Past Erik has a Flaskback to the Camps and WWII on international television, and accidentally wins over the world, and gets Trask arrested, without meaning to._

“You built these weapons to destroy us. Why? Because you’re afraid of our gifts; because we are different. Humanity has always feared that which is different.”

Erik takes a deep breath, and turns back to the cameras that are facing him. He knows that they’re broadcasting worldwide, he knows that there will be hundreds of mutant watching him right now, and all he wants to make sure that they understand one important thing – that they are not alone, and that he will fight to ensure their continued freedom.

“But I’ve seen what your intolerance will bring. I had a daughter once,” he admits and his voice drops, as does his head. “Her name was Anya. She was perfect – blonde hair, bright blue eyes, the most beautiful smile. They came a week before her second birthday and burnt the house down with her inside it, because I was a mutant. She was an innocent little girl, but those humans killed her anyway because they were scared of what she might become.

“It’s always the same with you humans. You want to round us up, take our names and walk us like cattle into ghettos. Will you turn us into numbers, too?” he spits furiously and yanks up the sleeve of his left arm, baring his skin and his identification tattoo for the whole world to see. “Will you put us to good use, only allowing us to utilise our gifts in order to better your regime? Will the public even know what you’re doing to us behind closed doors, or will they all step back in horror when our mass graves are finally revealed?”

He takes a moment to absorb the shock of the people in front of him as they stare at him in… not terror or horror, for the first time that he can remember, but with pity. It’s almost worse, and he quickly covers his arm again with a flush of shame and embarrassment, angrily brushing away the wetness on his cheeks. It’s not their pity that he wants.

“I’m sure you all remember the Cuban Missile Crisis – but what you might not be aware of is that on that beach in Cuba, it was one little band of mutants stopped two supernations from beginning World War Three and disabling the systems. And what did you do in response? Fired all of your available nuclear warheads at us in fear of what we could do, instead of leaving us in peace in gratitude for what we _had_ done, and then made us out to be the enemy and began to hunt us. And you wonder why we react violently when you take us from your homes.”

 _Erik, please, stop this…_ Charles urges, but Erik gestures wildly and furiously.

 _No,_ Charles, they should know, everyone should know. They should know about Trask, that man cowering behind you, and what he’d done in the name of ‘furthering his research’ for these Sentinels of his, these machines that are _DNA-guided to target us_. Has he told you about how he captured my fellow mutants? Has he told you about how Mystique had to go to Vietnam and rescue soldiers from him, American soldiers who were told that they were going home after having served their country but were actually been shipped to Trask Industries? Has he told you about how experimented on them, tortured them, mutilated them and drove them to the point of insanity? Has he told you about how he ripped Angel’s wings out of her back? _Has he told you about wanting to harvest Mystique’s brain and spinal tissue_? _Hat er gesagt_? _Kannst ihr nicht sehen_? _Wir werden nicht so leben, wir können nicht so leben, ich lasse euch nicht…_

He trails off suddenly, light-headed and gasping, and it’s only then that he realises that Mystique is holding him up and Charles’ mind is soothing his, whispering to him in a mixture of English and German (and that’s the only thing that he can hear) as Hank carries him across the grass, amongst the wreckage that he’s caused. Erik can’t quite see the government officials in front of him anymore – the president is walking towards him but he’s ringed in a white light, and Erik can’t breathe, and Charles reaches out to touch him –

– and he collapses on the floor, shaking, and he can see and hear everything again but all that he can _feel_ is Charles and Mystique holding him from either side, and really, that’s all that matters.

 

**

 

Erik doesn’t remember what happened after his knees hit the ground. He doesn’t remember Nixon crossing the lawn to help him to his feet; he doesn’t remember the President looking him in the eyes and apologising for everything that humankind has done to his race. He doesn’t remember Trask being arrested and dragged away; he doesn’t remember sitting dazed as Charles talks to the press and the government. He doesn't remember the journey back to the mansion, and he definitely doesn’t remember being put to bed in Charles’ room (his own, he finds out later, was converted into dorm rooms for the students).

He doesn’t remember it, but Charles tells him what happened in the aftermath of his tangential monologue the next morning over tea and toast.

“I must admit, even though I was worried that you were going to crack and unleash some sort of monumental power surge, I was also impressed.”

“With what?”

“The fact that you single-handedly manage to achieve what we’ve all been trying for a decade – and entirely by accident, and quite against your own motives.”

Erik scowls at Charles over the bone china. This is not what he had planned. He’d intended to declare mutant superiority and openly invite his mutant brothers to join him in his plan for the protection and preservation of his species; instead, he’s being lauded as the misunderstood hero of the Cuban Missile Crisis, wrongly incarcerated and cleared of all charges. To top it off, Charles and Hank are apparently scheduled to have ‘talks’ with the President next week, and the man is insisting that Erik join them so that he can further his understanding of their kind and improve upon their relations.

It’s horrendous.

“I’m proud of you,” Charles says gently and reaches for his hand across the table, but Erik jerks away and folds his arms across his chest protectively.

“I don’t want your pride.”

_Erik…_

“Get out of my _head_!” he snarls, and this time it’s Charles’ turn to recoil. “You told me that you would never get inside my mind again, so don’t back out on that promise now.”

“You know that I was only saying that because I didn’t want you to know that I didn’t have my powers at that point.”

Erik just glares at him over the buttered toast on his plate. Everything is coming back together even as it’s all falling apart; Raven is staying at the mansion, but avoiding Erik, and whilst Charles might not loathe him anymore they’re certainly not back to the intense and perfect relationship that they had a decade ago.

“You never told me about Anya,” Charles says after a moment. Erik shrugs, and lifts his tea again.

“You never asked.”

“We’ll do it right, this time. We’ve made progress at last, and if these negotiations with the President go well, we should be able to reopen the Institute and find more students to protect. You can help us, Erik. You already have.”

Erik looks down at the table and sees that Charles is reaching out for him again, his hand resting between the plate and the strawberry jam. He doesn’t need to look up to see the burning hope in Charles’ eyes; he’s projecting it so strongly that even Erik, who’s spent the last ten years shutting himself down to everything, can feel it. 

He takes Charles’ hand.


End file.
